Taken by the Baron: A Novella Read online

  Yasmine Nash

  Taken by the Baron

  Copyright © 2020 by Yasmine Nash

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Cover image © VJ Dunraven/Adobe

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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  Contents

  1. Chapter 1

  2. Chapter 2

  3. Chapter 3

  4. Chapter 4

  5. Chapter 5

  6. Chapter 6

  7. Chapter 7

  8. Chapter 8

  About the Author

  Also by Yasmine Nash

  1

  Chapter 1

  Amanda gulped uneasily, trying to stop her limbs from shaking. Nerves, she told herself. That’s all. She wasn’t actually scared to wed her future husband—no matter what kind of rumors were circulating about him.

  The Ton gossiped in hushed tones that her fiancé, the reclusive baron, was both mad and a murderer. Amanda had only met Baron Fitzwilliam Descamps once, a few days ago, but he hadn’t looked mad. Still, with his towering height, large, muscular build, and unshaven, stubbled face, he had looked rather frightening. And ruggedly handsome.

  They had met at one of the public balls that were so frequently held in Bath to liven up the dreary winter months. As soon as her family had arrived at the ball, the Wilberrys had heard the hushed whispers that the mad Baron of Highmount Castle was in attendance, although nobody could figure out why he had come. The man had stood dourly in a shadowed corner of the hall watching the dancing couples without giving any indication that he wished to join them.

  When Amanda’s father, Mr. Wilberry, had spotted the baron, he had immediately gone over to ingratiate himself with the man. Mr. Wilberry had remained in deep discussion with the baron for over an hour while the rest of the company pretended not to be watching them with eager eyes. Amanda’s sisters had passed the time dancing, but Amanda, who was the homeliest of her siblings, had remained seated beside her mother the entire time. Eventually, her father returned to their family with a triumphant look on his face, the baron following behind him, bearing an unreadable expression.

  Descamps hadn’t so much as smiled once at Amanda. Instead, he just ran his eyes mechanically up and down her face and body. He’d apparently been satisfied by that single meeting, for he’d turned immediately to her father and begun discussing her dowry. That was all. As though she were a horse being sold at market.

  So much for romance.

  Amanda had struggled mightily to reign in her shock at the suddenness of the circumstances. She had known her father had been wishing to marry her off for a while, but to be confronted by it so unexpectedly was unnerving. She had had a difficult time maintaining her countenance when confronted with the baron at the ball, and if not for her mother’s fingers pinching her arm from time to time, Amanda might have toppled over from the sheer shock of it all. And all the while, the eyes of all the assembled guests had glued themselves to their corner of the hall, not even bothering to hide their staring.

  That had been three days ago. Her father, eager to make this business official, and the baron, apparently keen to leave Bath as soon as possible, had arranged for the earliest date for the ceremony to take place.

  The baron had exchanged fewer than five words with Amanda, and now she was due to walk down the aisle and marry him. It was madness. But she had no choice but to go on with the wedding. Amanda knew well that her father had already begun using the promise of his future son-in-law’s wealth to defer payment of his many debts. If she backed out of the wedding now, who knew how her father’s creditors would react?

  And while Amanda might have been okay with allowing her father to suffer for his own mistakes, she couldn’t sentence her mother and two younger sisters to a future of continued penury and shame.

  Once she was the baroness, she would use whatever spare cash she could save to send additional payments to her mother and sisters. Her father, ever the gambler, had come to an unusual arrangement with Descamps.

  Upon the consummation of their marriage, the baron had promised to pay off Mr. Wilberry’s substantial gambling debt. At least Amanda could rest comfortable knowing her family wouldn’t be thrown out of their home anytime soon, but she had no doubts in her mind that her father would soon regress to his old ways. Her marriage was the only way she’d be able to continually provide a small stipend for her innocent mother and sisters, to keep them supplied in all the necessities they required.

  Assuming Amanda survived, that is.

  The last baroness had died within two years of her wedding to the baron. The rumors of the Ton (and Amanda hoped they were baseless) was that he had grown tired of his wife and murdered her. She prayed the same wouldn’t happen to her. She was almost certain the talk was all nonsense.

  Even Amanda’s mother was nervous for her. Mrs. Wilberry hovered around now, tucking away nonexistent stray hairs and smoothing Amanda’s gown yet again.

  “You don’t have to go through with this,” she assured her daughter for the dozenth time in half as many minutes. “Your father and I will figure matters out. You deserve to be married to a man you love, who adores you. Who’ll treat you the way you deserve.”

  Amanda kissed her mother’s hand affectionately, but she didn’t say the thoughts that were really going through her mind.

  Amanda didn’t put much stock in love. Her mother had married her father for love and look where that had gotten them: nearly penniless and desperate enough to sell off their oldest daughter to the highest bidder. No, if Amanda were going to marry, at least she would do it to help out those she loved.

  “I’ll be fine, Mama,” Amanda assured her mother with a confidence she didn’t feel.

  She stood up. It was time. One more deep breath to calm her nerves and then she would be ready.

  Her future husband awaited.

  * * *

  The ceremony, a perfunctory one, was over in a matter of minutes. Aside from the priest who married them, the only guests present were Amanda’s parents and two younger sisters. The whole wedding had been thrown together in such a hurry that no one else had come. And instead of celebrating together with her family afterward, Amanda and her husband (it was going to take her some time to get used to calling him that!) went straight into his carriage to head back to the baron’s estate. She barely had time to say goodbye to her parents before they were off.

  She wondered why he was so impatient to be gone. True, his estate, in the far north of England, was several days away by carriage, but surely allowing her a few last hours to spend with her family wouldn’t have hurt? Since they would be at such a distance, Amanda had no idea when she would see her loved ones again. But she held her tongue. It would not do to complain.

  The pair rode together in silence for an hour, and Amanda felt every awkward minute of it. Perhaps this would feel more comfortable to the both of them if they didn’t feel like such strangers. She thought she might as well try to get to know the man she had married. After all, they would be trapped alone together inside that carriage for the foreseeable future.

  Amanda had only begun speaking a few minutes w
hen Descamps looked at her disdainfully. “Do you always try to talk, as a rule? I wish your father had warned me of this beforehand.”

  “I— my apologies, my lord,” she whispered, humiliation rushing over her.

  Yet again, Amanda wondered why he had chosen to marry her. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure it out. She knew it wasn’t for her beauty. Unlike the fashionably plump women of the day, Amanda was tall and thin, with nary a curve on her body. Mousy brown hair framed her narrow face and freckles covered her large nose.

  Her new husband, on the other hand, was incredibly handsome. The kind of man that caused young ladies to swoon at the sight of him, at least until they realized who he has. Black hair curling to the nape of his neck, strong, muscular frame, dark gray eyes, and angled cheekbones: he had the cold beauty of a statue.

  Clearly, he wasn’t interested in her wit and conversation either, since he had rebuffed her attempts to engage him.

  The past few days had been filled with a blur of preparations and goodbyes. Up until now, Amanda hadn’t even had time for tears. In the carriage, across from her new husband, Amanda leaned her head against the window and silently let all the tears flow from her body until she had none left and fell asleep.

  * * *

  Baron Fitzwilliam Descamps dispassionately watched his new wife slumber. He had a strong suspicion she had cried herself to sleep when she thought he hadn’t been looking, but he’d long ago grown immune to the power of a woman’s tears. Hers did not touch him.

  His critical gaze wandered over his wife’s profile. She was pretty enough, but no man would ever call her a beauty. Nothing outstanding about her whatsoever that should have inspired him to wed him. Descamps was still trying to understand the uncharacteristic impulsiveness which had led him to agree on her for his bride.

  He had been thinking for a while that it was time to re-marry—several years had already passed since his first wife’s tragic death.

  Descamps had come to Bath this season intending to find himself a rich, handsome woman to wed. Instead, he’d spotted Amanda at a public ball and decided she was the one he wanted. He couldn’t pinpoint why he’d chosen her, unless it was because of her shy green eyes, which were the only truly pretty thing about his new young wife.

  And she was young. Only 20, whereas Descamps was a good 14 years older than her. Judging by her tears, she had a soft heart, too, which the baron had no time for in a wife. There were benefits to her young age though. Most importantly, it would be easier for her to bear him heirs, which was the only reason he’d made up his mind to marry again in the first place.

  It didn’t hurt that she had a fool of a father, who was so greedy for the connections and cash Descamps could give him that he hadn’t even cared a whit about the baron’s formidable reputation. Most fathers had steered their daughters as far away from Descamps as they could when they saw him walk through a room.

  He was used to it. The suspicious glares of the men. The watchful eyes of the older women who wanted to ensure he came nowhere near their young charges. And the whispers and giggles from the younger ladies.

  None of it phased him anymore, although he still avoided it when he could. That’s why he preferred the solitude of his estate in the north to the hustle and bustle of the gossiping crowds of London and Bath.

  Descamps had never entertained any foolish notions, like falling in love with his new wife. A lifetime full of difficulties and pain had steered him away from any such sentimentality. He only hoped she wouldn’t mope about crying for long after their marriage. If anything would give him cause to regret his impulsive choice, it would be that.

  * * *

  Amanda remained quiet and gloomy the rest of the day, but Descamps didn’t pay any mind. It wasn’t until they had eaten supper—Amanda had only picked at her food—and they were alone in the room he had rented that his new wife began to look nervous, too.

  Of course. The wedding night. Her mother must have told her to expect something—and something none-too-pleasant, to gauge by the way Amanda shrunk away from him.

  “W-what are you doing?” she asked, her voice quivering, when Descamps approached to help her remove her gown.

  “I highly doubt you wish to sleep in your corset tonight,” he said coolly. He finished undoing the buttons on the traveling gown’s back and then began to work on her tight corset’s laces. Once he’d finished, Descamps stepped back, but he did not remove his gaze.

  Amanda finished undressing awkwardly. Clearly aware her husband was watching, she stepped out of her restrictive traveling dress and into a nightgown as quickly as she could before she finished removing the corset.

  What an awful lot of trouble to go through to maintain modesty, especially when she wouldn’t be chaste much longer. Still, he’d caught a glimpse of smooth olive-toned skin and the hint of rounded buttocks. Perhaps his new wife had more curves to her that he’d realized. That pleased him.

  When she had no other excuses, Amanda crouched on the very end of the bed, as far from Descamps as she could be, although she kept her eyes fixed wide on him, like startled prey watching a predator. She was visibly shaking now. It made him want to try an experiment.

  Descamps strode over to her and without preamble leaned down to kiss his wife on the lips. He felt her jump at the contact, but he did not draw back, instead increasing his intensity. Her mouth remained resolutely closed, refusing to allow his tongue to enter her, no matter how he teased.

  Unhandsome and cold, too. Oh well. He didn’t anticipate finding copulation with his wife a pleasant experience, but that wouldn’t matter as long as she could bear children.

  He was not ready to give up the experiment though. Descamps drew one finger across Amanda’s jaw, down her neck and to her chest, sensing her trembling increase with every inch of skin he touched. However, the ragged breath she inhaled clued him in that this time, the shaking wasn’t from fear. So she wasn’t completely ice after all. When Descamps kissed Amanda again, her lips had grown more pliable now, even willing, but then Descamps drew back.

  “I take it you’re a virgin?” he asked.

  She obviously was, but he wanted to know what her reaction would be to his saying the word out loud. Amanda blushed beet red but said nothing.

  “Well?” he prodded.

  She jerked her head in a nod, not meeting his gaze.

  Again, Descamps wondered why he had chosen such a skittish bride.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you tonight,” he said coolly.

  She visibly sagged in relief.

  “But I will soon. And trust upon this, wife: when I do touch you, you’ll be begging me for more. That’s a promise.”

  And with that, Descamps shrugged off his boots and climbed into the bed to sleep.

  * * *

  Amanda watched her husband lying with his eyes closed. There was only one bed in the room and although he had promised to leave her be tonight, the memory of that kiss was still too near in her mind for comfort.

  She didn’t know what to think of it. It had been her first kiss and had felt strange and invasive at first, but then the sensation had been almost pleasant. And then he had made that promise, which had felt more like a warning.

  Amanda’s mother had told her the act of lying with a husband was not a pleasant one, but a duty to be completed. The first few times would be painful, her mother had warned her. Amanda would have preferred not to have the warning at all, because now she couldn’t stop worrying about it. She almost wished the baron would just get the first time over with tonight and put her out of her misery.

  If she was very lucky, her mother had told her, Amanda would bear one or two boys in quick succession, then she would never have to worry about the business again.

  Another thing her mother had told her, which Amanda would rather not have heard, was that her husband was likely to keep a lover, and this was just something Amanda would have to get used to. According to Mrs. Wilberry, these rich, great men always had a f
ew women on the side. Amanda watched her husband sleep, wondering if he already had a lover back at his home.

  Then again, the baron was different than other great men in a lot of ways. For one, he didn’t seem to care about following basic social etiquette. Like his facial hair. Descamps had shaved for their wedding, but prior to that, he had allowed the stubble to grow in. Amanda wasn’t used to a man who wasn’t clean-shaven. Her father shaved every morning, only preserving his mustache. But the baron didn’t seem to want to be bothered.

  Amanda had been incredibly sheltered all her life. When her mother had sat her down a few nights before and explained the mechanics of a man and a woman lying together, Amanda had been more than a little dismayed. That her husband, who she didn’t even know, was supposed to put his…in her…It made her blush scarlet just to remember the conversation.

  She’d never even explored down there herself before, steadfastly ignoring the dull ache that had sometimes visited her nether regions ever since she’d gotten her first blood. Amanda had never told anyone about those feelings that sometimes came over her, or the urge that came at nights, when she was alone in her the dark of her room—but which she’d never indulged—to reach down a hand and see if she could make the ache go away.

  While these thoughts were whirling through her mind, Amanda’s new husband was paying her no notice. That observation made her feel safe enough to crawl under the covers, although she still kept as close to the edge of the bed as she could.

  2

  Chapter 2

  In the morning, her husband gave no indication that the events of last night had even happened. He looked perfectly well-rested, if impatient to be off again to continue their journey. Amanda, on the other hand, had barely slept a wink last night.

  She just hadn’t been able to relax, lying so close to a relative stranger. Finally, she had managed to will herself to sleep for a few hours near dawn, but she was awakened by the sound of Descamps getting dressed. She opened her eyes to see his bare, muscular chest for a few seconds before he covered it with a clean shirt.